Excess

It is not a question of
Whether you were enough
Or not,
Too much,
Or not.

You exceed quantities, beyond
Into questions of
Whether you were fitting,
My self with yours
Or not,
Fits too well,
Or not.

These are questions of relation
Which means there are two
Trying to be one,
Or not.

So question not your worth
For it exceeds my words
And consumes me
To propel me forward,
Or not.

/michal

So What am I Today?

I always feared permanence.
So why, now, the hurt?

I’ll keep writing with my pencil
In notebooks without lines. Facing erasure.
How temporary.
They could burn,
or get lost,
or get stolen
Like their lacking lines
Which were stolen off the page.

I no longer know where, exactly
I am expected to write.
Or how,
Given that it will all change tomorrow.
I can only hope that my change will be directed
Towards my self,
That one I’m supposed to be,
Tomorrow.

/michal

Packets of Time: Particle Theory of Love

I am waiting for enough moments
to pass until
I am no longer fighting urges
to call him.

I go through the motions of my day,
slowly unfreezing,
hurriedly wondering,
at what point is it acceptable for me
to be light again?

Some days have lighter moments
which cloud over with guilt:
How dare I be okay?
What about him?
Is he okay?

I am waiting for enough moments
to combine until
I start stitching myself back up,
through packets of time.

/michal

Numb but Unafraid

I have a story
to tell but no urgency
propels me
towards its completion

and so it will remain
half-whispered, half-exclaimed
flowing yet contained

a dynamic equilibrium
changing all the same.

It does not matter
in a world bursting
at the seams with the imminent
the breaking

do not have time
do not have ears
but the broken

have no fears, they are not
even afraid of waiting,

not anymore.

/cristina